The Searing Tattoo
by Xintiandi
Summary: Some marks are eternal. The ink might fade but the memory of burnt flesh and muted screams will follow you to the grave. For Naruto, the tattoo only meant sleepless nights pondering Jiraiya's proclamations on the duty of 'the true patriot.' Diverg. Epic
1. Chapter 0 v2

**Disclaimer**: Naruto is the property of Kishimoto Masashi. Plot and certain details come from my very fucked up mind.

**Preliminary Author's Note: **This will be very long, and very detailed. Don't be afraid.

* * *

**Chapter 0**

**Crafting the Crown of Thorns**

Three days of freezing rain, the last vestiges of a harsh winter, had finally given way to a pristine night sky partially dominated by the full moon; utterly dominated by strange recurring dreams of smoke and blood and pain and a mysterious burning effulgence; all appreciated only by a lone man on an apartment balcony.

Sasuke idly scratched his neck, lost in thought, almost meditative on the intuitive connection he made four years ago between the suppression of his curse seal and the first dream.

Whatever he was dreaming of had been fleshed out over the intervening years, like an oil painting taking shape, wash after wash, layer over layer. Revelations in the dreamscape came agonizingly slow. He spent most of his time muddling about on the floor of what seemed like a decrepit dungeon, usually writhing in pseudo-pain. Voices were intermittent, appearing some nights, going unheard for weeks, then reappearing randomly to split his skull in half, a hysterical cacophony resembling some of the choicer Oto jounin techniques.

Tsunade and Kakashi were of no help, almost reluctant to help him understand the hurricane-like systems of seals wrapped around his torso, surrounding his curse seal like it was the eye of storm. If he didn't understand the seals, how could he understand why he suffered from the dreams. And ultimately, how Orochimaru's mental control over him had been broken. More than anything, he feared becoming a puppet again.

Sasuke glanced over his shoulder. "Sometimes I think you're the only person on my side."

"You'll catch a cold standing outside in training shorts, and don't think I'll get some antibiotics from the hospital again." Sakura shivered and pulled her silk robe tighter around her body before stepping outside to join him. She draped a blanket over his shoulders and leaned over the railing, looking around at the empty streets. When the sun came out tomorrow, the market would explode with people venturing outside for the first time in days.

"Maybe we can both take the day off tomorrow. Walk around a bit, enjoy the sunshine. The dreams will go away, just let them come and ignore them." Sakura rubbed his neck, trying to undo kinks in muscles only a med-nin would be able to recognize. Sasuke was always too tense after waking up in the middle of the night.

"Easy for you to say. Your dreams only revolved around me, usually in varying states of undress. I knew were staring at me through the screen for awhile. Tsunade will be so disappointed that you took after Kakashi." Sakura pinched him lightly, but Sasuke only leaned farther into her touch. It really did help him, such a simple sensation was so central to their relationship. Sleep came easy after, always dreamless and very comforting, for both of them.

Eventually they headed back to bed, the somber mood broken by insistent pokes, unmanly giggles, gossip, heartfelt declarations, and a detour on the kitchen table. Across the street, two ANBU finally faded into view. "Did you get all that?"

"Naturally. But it's not like he said anything remotely interesting tonight."

"That's not the point rookie."

* * *

"_You will play the violin!" Jiraiya punched Naruto in the throat, leaving him rolling on the ground in agony. "This training journey isn't for fun. I'm not going to be teaching you new jutsu everyday. You'll learn what I teach you, not what you want!"_

_Naruto glared at him, speaking scratchily and in obvious pain. "What does the violin have to do with getting Sasuke back!? I need to get stronger so I can beat him up!"_

_Jiraiya laughed callously. "I was nice to you earlier, first because you were a brat, second because you weren't a real shinobi." He prematurely cut off Naruto's retort with a finger. "This is for real. You'll die. That's it. Sasuke didn't kill you at the Valley of the End_—_count yourself lucky_—_but Akatsuki will. My job isn't to make sure you're able to bring back a traitor but stay alive because you're Konoha's most valuable weapon."_

_Naruto was oddly quiet after that. Every time he began to speak, he closed his mouth, seemingly arguing with himself over how to reply. After they had eaten a quiet dinner, he opened the case and took out the violin and bow looking to Jiraiya for his first instructions. Jiraiya knew this was only a minor victory, probably Naruto thinking to indulge an old man for his secrets. If Jiraiya had wanted to be indulged, Naruto would consistently be maintaining Harem no Jutsu, among other things.  
_

_Hopefully Naruto would learn some patience like Minato had eventually. Jiraiya would not fail in his mission, even if he had to beat the objectives into Naruto. "Hold the violin parallel to the ground, rest it on your left collar bone, and relax your knees." Jiraiya produced another violin from the folds of his sleeves. "Hold the bow like me and watch carefully."  
_

* * *

It was easy for Ino to let her guard down in an unassuming place like Hokuto. One of several sizable cities dotting the eastern coast of the Kaminari no Kuni, evidence of modernization that had not yet reached the hidden villages was obvious. The constant stream of people, salmon-like in their migration upwards to the pristine and unchallenged mountains away from the port and factory district, or more accurately towards the real money, provided the perfect current for her to go along her business. This far north in Kumo territory, working so overtly became the norm for her. It had been months since she had used a profile kit for anything other than assassinations.

A certain Ebisawa Junzo had been identified as a potential food distributor ran by a valuable enemy cell. TOWHEAD had moved in two weeks ago. They had made contact with one of the few remaining iANBU cells operating in the city before beginning a deep surveillance op. Between Hokuto and a number of other coastal cities in the region, there were only three stations that actually counted. The amount of worthwhile intelligence coming out of this city had been low for quite a few years. Consequently, the number of available of operatives on short notice inside city was woefully inadequate compared to the ever increasing demands of the Tactics and Strategy Squad.

She was almost unsettled by the ease she merged into the flow after insertion. There were no familiar, black-haired, diminutive profiles to look down on, but row upon row, military rank and file of blond giants that looked her in the eye and returned her appraising smirks. Whether it was a rancid dive bar in the port district, or a trendy nightclub overlooking the city's nether regions, the frank openness about sex was refreshing. It was the obvious counterpoint to the hellish pace of life anywhere in the city. With the current political and military situation it wasn't wise to push the bounds Strategy had set out for her assignment. In layman's terms, it meant not fucking on the job.

Technically Kumo and Konoha were at peace, but wars rarely started and ended in the open. So far meaningful combat had been restricted to the ANBU units and their equivalents. Soon it would be all business, for everyone. Reports on enemy movement in the northern regions of Kaminari had been begun to pile up on the desks of analysts in Konoha. The political machinations leading to outright hostilities between nations were too far along to influence in any meaningful way. War was inevitable.

The target in question had done nothing of note for the past three hours. Ino hated stakeouts with a passion. Another sleepless night watching Ebisawa cook, eat, and veg out in front of the TV was only made worse by her precarious position. Perched on a small ledge on the building across the street, Ino hoped risking a direct line of sight would provide even the smallest detail to make cracking the enemy cell easier. She only knew that he had had semi-regular contact with known Kumo ANBU operatives over the past two months.

Ino shifted her weight and held back a sigh. The current form of surveillance was extremely dangerous and extremely boring. Currently Ebisawa was awkwardly clunking around the kitchen trying to cook. He always tried to cook. A creature of habit; which was where the problem always came in.

What minor deviation in his routine was in the in? Which seemingly insignificant variable in the minutiae that made up his life was the key to deciphering the destination unidentified food shipments he had been facilitating for almost five months? What part of his tediously documented day was the line they needed to map the future movements of six Kumo-elite platoons? Suddenly, her comm-set clicked to life.

"--Odoriko. Two spiders. Take Z12. Y9 is locked. Mark at 15," said her cover.

_15…14…13…_ They had been noticed. Ino didn't shift a muscle. Through her scope, Ebisawa was now adding what looked to be raw chicken to his wok. _12…11…10…_ Inhale. Exhale. Ino moved slowly and deliberately through motions ingrained by rote in training, and perfected over two years of active service. _9…8…7…_ Inhale. Exhale. Left hand to scratch left ear. Pause one beat. Slide tanto from arm sheath to palm. Detach scope with right hand. _6…5…4…_Inhale. Exhale. Lean forward and release chakra connecting feet to surface. _3…2…1…_ Inhale. Exhale. Grip scope in right palm. Grip tanto in left palm. _0…_Inhale. Launch.

The shinobi below had no time to react. The acceleration of gravity in free fall lent enough force to bury Ino's tanto up to the grip as she plummeted past him. The placement and angle of the blade was perfect, right between the second and third vertebrae of the spine through the back of the neck. Most importantly, no time for the ninja to signal for backup.

Tenko sighed and pocketed his kunai. Ino could have died just as easily as the two Kumo-nin if the situation had unfolded differently. The moment he had spotted the ninjas climbing up around her, he'd signaled for the secondary to move in.

A quick jump, flip, and twist left him on the roof's edge hauling Ino and the corpse up by wire. They had to dispose of the body quickly and discreetly and make plans for extraction.

Ebisawa was a wash, as was any chance of getting reliable intel on those platoons. TOWHEAD would be gone by the end of the week.

* * *

_Thankfully Sarutobi-sensei never cottoned on that his erstwhile student wasn't only trying to peep in on the ANBU showers when he started his sealing apprenticeship. Besides, who was he as Jiraiya's sensei to begrudge a little training. Even Tsunade and Orochimaru were amazed by his growing talents in fuin jutsu. Discreetly unraveling the binds on the multiple seals clouding the glass between the men's bath and the women's bath was beyond most ninja period, ANBU or otherwise. Even that weird seal Tsunade had put on her bedroom window unraveled eventually._

_This was different though.__ Jiraiya was stumped. Absolutely. Positively. Undeniably. Stumped. It didn't happen much, but it wasn't unheard of. __ Not only was this conundrum was so far beyond Tsunade's indiscriminate amalgamation of the Four-Corner Tiger Seal reinforced with the first part of the third Fuja Hoin sealing derivative that he almost gave up, but it was just **different**. What the hell was Naruto trying to isolate with all these condition-controlled loops? _

_Naruto's growth in just a year of intensive training was amazing, but Jiraiya still had trouble understanding him sometimes. The private Naruto that had emerged along their travels was very different from everyone's perceptions. Still surprising, but in a myriad of ways more subtle and insidious in their expression. His prank habit was only scratching the surface it seemed.  
_

_That compartmentalization of feeling and personality played right into Jiraiya's hands. Hatake Kakashi and his ilk aside, the best ANBU were fashioned from the most unexpected materials._

* * *

Kakashi hated coming to consciousness in hospital beds. Thankfully no one had taken off his mask this time. Last time he had been in the hospital for an extended stay he'd been forced to sneak out in the middle of the night. Kakashi had eventually found the nurse and her camera, but from then on it was self treatment only.

Lately, temping for the ANBU Combat Division was taking its toll. It wasn't out right injury this time as much as diffused chakra retention in his muscles. They would begin to loose muscle mass and strength if he kept having to force chakra into them for constant high-speed movements.

Kakashi tried to sit up. Failure. He felt as if someone has sucked out all his energy with a vacuum.

"Defeated by bed sheets Kakashi, embarrassing. If I ever need to control you, I'll make sure to dope you up."

Kakashi shifted his gaze to the figure sitting on the window sill. Shizune's wry grin belied her worry. She obviously hadn't been sleeping well. All the elite shinobi hadn't. They realized what was coming. They knew the dirty word was making starting to trickle down the grapevine. Konoha was _unprepared_. Thankfully, what for exactly had been kept quiet.

Kakashi wanted to say something to alleviate her anxiety but he couldn't even move his lips. All the words he wanted to say escaped in an infantile gurgle. Shizune laughed, tension flowing out of her as she came and sat on the edge of his bed.

"You've had us all worried, an absolute wreck when you were brought in, and unconscious for almost two days." Her hands idly smoothed out wrinkles in his gown as she talked. "That's not even counting almost an entire day you spent in treatment. You really need to stop pushing yourself so hard, no matter how many of your team you need to compensate for. All these upcoming rookies are going to need veterans more than ever to show them the ropes."

"Sakuya-hime gave you two days to recuperate before you're to report to Yamajiro so make sure you actually rest. No stupid competitions with Gai!

"Tsunade is coming later for the debriefing. I might as well fill out your chart while we're at it. Vitals first." Shizune made short work of it, clinical but there was an undercurrent of anger to her motions. Kakashi didn't appreciate being rolled, poked, and prodded roughly for no reason.

"Lastly, I guess as punishment...Some torture for being so reckless. Doctor's orders" Kakashi did not like that smirk. Just what was she planning, or was it Tsunade. Maybe even Sakura was in on it? All he could manage was an impudent squeak as Shizune pinched his nose. She slowly wormed a nail, and then a finger under his mask, slowly starting to pull it down his face.

Kakashi's mind protested vehemently. How could Shizune unmask him in a public area!? He was only able to gurgle angrily before her lips closed over his. Her kiss held none of the tenderness he remembered from Risshun some weeks back. It was insistent, more than a bit needy, and very welcomed but a bit problematic.

Shizune climbed on top of him and tore off his gown. "Don't worry. According to your dosage, the drugs should start wearing off in five minutes."

Kakashi glanced at the door.

"Please, I run this hospital. No one will be in here for at least another twenty minutes." She interpreted his expression perfectly. "Exactly. It's a race."

* * *

**Author's Note**: It only took me a year to get back to this, begin a rewrite of something I never actually wrote. The plot is much better fleshed out now, even held together better by the introduction of certain canonical elements in the past year. Hopefully I can keep to my tentative update schedule, and at least satisfy some of the goals I've set for this story and my writing.

Constructive reviews will help me improve. Don't hold back.

**Glossary**

**Risshun –** Japanese festival marking the division between winter and spring

**Yamajiro **- ANBU Fortress Headquarters

**iANBU **- Intelligence ANBU


	2. Chapter 1 v2

**Disclaimer**: Naruto is the property of Kishimoto Masashi. Plot and certain details are of my own creation.

**Author's Note: **Revised; section added at the end.

* * *

**Chapter 1**

**The Trap-Setter**

* * *

The Hakodate Grand Hotel was an awe-inspiring edifice. 77 stories of rooms, suites, penthouses, indoor pools, indoor gardens, lounges, restaurants, and all manner of entertainment; any imaginable amenity was present or could be arranged for. It was an almost exclusive province of the rich, famous, and usually glamorous. Anyone passing through its gilded doors first had to wade through a sea of paparazzi; zealously guarding any visitor's attempt to enter or leave without paying lockage, assessed by frantically spent rolls of film.

TOWHEAD had decided—democratically, of course—to commandeer one of its many luxury penthouses. A generous infusion of cash to the lead hotelier and the Hibiscus Suite penthouse was now off-limits except to a small crew of _contractors_ working on its renovation. It was the perfect base of operations. Private elevator, private terrace, 1000-thread-count sheets; most importantly, the Hibiscus Suite had its own hot tub and a full bar.

After spending three rainy days in the forests of Kaminari obscuring their trail, and dealing with the odd ninja, modern comfort had gone immediately to TOWHEAD's head. While her teammates Kouhi and Tenko had made a beeline towards the alcohol, the first thing on Ino's mind was cleaning up.

ANBU service made incredible demands of a person, but it didn't mean she should just let herself go. And besides, there wasn't even a point in comparing her apartment's furo to the monstrosity the hotel billed as a personal spa. Asuma-sensei had always said, 'Teachers open the doors, but you must enter by yourself." She'd taken it to heart and flopped into the water like a noodle, half-heartedly attempting to wash away grime and blood before giving up and relaxing.

Ino sighed into the steam. "Did you know this passion-mango aromatherapy oil is almost 6000 ryo? I should be able to _redistribute_ the hotel's entire stock into a container scroll by the time we're done with this mission. I'm sure you'll be able to do the same with all that booze, right Kouhi?

"Nakata Hide, Ino. Surname, given name, even honorifics if you want, but no code names when we're not on the job. I bet Uzumaki already has this place sealed up tighter than some corseted virgin. Operational paranoia is great, but—"

"Trust in your teammate and don't let it get in the way of the easy life between missions," Naruto finished with flourish, and a cannonball.

He energetically went to work scrubbing sealing ink from his hands. "This place is even tighter. Nothing comes in; nothing goes out; not without me letting it, not even chakra and sound. Entrance tags are on the table, use Tiger-Dragon-Tiger to activate and deactivate."

"Kitchen raid once we're done?" Ino said. "I'm too tired for anything else. I just want to set up the mission board and pass out. What are we even doing here? Why do _I _have to be here during Fashion Week and be on a mission at the same time?"

Naruto grinned. "Well Hide and I are going to be fangasming over Ishikawa Rika for the next week." The grin widened. "Ero-sennin's covert photography lessons are going to come in handy. You on the other hand..." Naruto trailed off in a very familiar blush-and-giggle routine Ino was sure she'd seen somewhere.

Hide looked comically clueless; probably more shocked by his dripping hair than any apparent perverseness Naruto could drag him into. One time, Anko, flush off her latest most prestigious one-night stand, had meticulously documented and referenced all of his hair care products. She had dazedly mumbled something about 30000 ryo to the ANBU Ladies in passing the next day.

By seniority alone, Hide should have been captain of TOWHEAD. Hell, even she had more relevant experience in the Intelligence Division than Naruto, but there was no arguing with his overall mission record and ability.

During TOWHEAD's last dead period—three months ago damn it!—the Gossip had all but said he was being fast-tracked through _both _ANBU divisions on Sakuya-hime's explicit order. Ino sighed again. She knew that not everyone could follow the Kakashi-career-trajectory. But honestly, Ino couldn't help being a little jealous, and intimidated.

She glanced up. Hide had been poking her foot with his toe quite insistently for the past few minutes. Any normal person, most shinobi even, would have seen an impassive aristocratic blonde. She noticed the slight curl to his lips and read him instantly; abject fury.

He gestured with his shoulders, and when Naruto turned back around with the soap bottle, his face met a torrent of water. He sputtered, only for a moment, before quickly flashing through a set of seals and dropping a _whirlpool _on their heads. Hide adroitly deflected part of it into Ino's face and the battle was on. Their impromptu water war ended in decidedly childish giggles, intensifying when they noticed how the once pristine bathroom was more akin to a small lake.

Ino pushed her hair out of eyes and settled back down to soak contentedly. She'd let Naruto get away with whatever dirty thoughts he was sure to be harboring, for now.

* * *

Ino reveled in the plushness of her new luxury spa robe. Long loop terry inner lining, silk floral outer shell; she'd be more than a little sad when they were done in Hakodate. So rarely did TOWHEAD get assigned a mission where downtime actually allowed them to relax, and in such style!

She made her way down to the penthouse's first level. A few of Naruto's Kage Bunshins must have made their way to the kitchens while they were all in the bath. The dining table was covered in food, delicious no doubt. Hide was mixing what looked to be a killer set of cocktails. Naruto on the other hand was all business again.

While Hide had been dealing with the hotelier, she and Naruto had made a quick circuit of Hakodate, hitting a series of dead drops to pick up auxiliary information gathered in the past weeks about their mission objective.

Naruto had taken all the paintings off one wall of the living room, pinning up a number of scrolls and what looked to be surveillance photos; a make-shift mission board detailing any information that could possible pertain to their orders and targets, ranging from sexual orientation to preferred lunch dishes.

Ino began stacking food on a plate, listing off food she never had the time eat because of ANBU's draconian scheduling ninjas. She lost track the first time after kushiabe, and again when she started filling up _another _plate.

Ino wrinkled her nose at Hide's amused smirk. "I need to make sure I get lots of nutrients so my breasts stay firm. ANBU ration bars can only do so much," she drawled.

Ino couldn't understand how she ever had tried to diet to improve her figure when she was so young; chalking it up to premature teen angst, and a growing understanding of true hunger.

Naruto's bunshins were frantically pinning up scrolls with him now. The smell of food was obviously working its magic. Hide pushed a coffee table and sofa in front of their board and sat down with three gigantic cocktail glasses, a plate piled with food similar to Ino's, and of course a full set of silverware and napkins. While his sometimes foul mouth contrasted with his noble looks, his meticulous etiquette training did not.

Ino on the other hand had no qualms about talking with food in her mouth. "So what's the deal? I hope we have mostly daytime work so we can hit the nighttime shows." Hide flicked a piece of tempura at her, a disgusted expression drifting across his face.

"No work, food and drink only." Naruto silently agreed with Hide, taking a plate prepared for him—Ino wished she could perform Kage Bunshin sometimes—and a seat between them.

Naruto sniffed his cocktail and set a questioning look at Hide.

"A.M.F. You said we started officially tomorrow, so, uh, great opportunity for, uh, fun?" Naruto grinned in response and raised his glass for a cheer.

After they'd eaten and finished cleaning up, Ino and Hide settled back for Naruto's précis. The ANBU ninja who usually assigned missions had a bad habit of being too wordy, obscuring the objective with useless information. Ino attributed some of TOWHEAD's high mission percentage recently to Naruto's directness.

"This is a joint Intelligence-Assassination mission, main target, Ishikawa Rika. Have you have heard of her Ino?"

"She's pretty cute." Ino threw a chopstick at Hide. Naruto threw fire at both of them.

"Ino?"

"She was on the cover of fruIts last year and the cover of fashionKUMO a couple months ago."

"Besides that, she's the child of a major daimyo in Ikazuchi no kuni; one sibling, an older brother being groomed to take his father's position. She's the complete opposite. Her father sent her to various elite boarding schools in Kaminari, ending up as a scholarship student at Sapporo University. She's highly visible in the fashion world as an occasional model and designer. Because of her high class schooling, she has many personal connections in the business and ruling elite.

"Right now Rika's on break from university, spending time in Hakodate for Fashion Week, and then directly after, traveling to her family's castle. In the next two weeks a number of Kaminari, Ikazuchi, Tanima, and Konoha daimyo and their entourages, along with shinobi representatives will be gathering for a summit.

"I'm not going into details about it—don't have many—but the higher ups think Rika can definitely be turned into an asset. They said that even though she's a girl, her father and brother do listen to her opinions. They know her connections even if they don't have her use them directly. If she wanted, she could have a surprising amount of political influence. We have to turn that potential into our tool.

"Rika doesn't normally travel with any bodyguards but she will be escorted to Ikazuchi, and guarded during the summit, by a team of ninja contracted by her father. Hide and I, along with members of Assassination Squad 3 will replace those shinobi.

"As intelligent as Rika is, she's been very sheltered. Great news for us is that she's also romantically challenged. That's where we'll make our play." Naruto handed each a thick manila folder. "The mission brief and its sources. Make your notes and we'll finalize the operation tomorrow. Early questions?"

Hide shook his head and dug right into the mass of pictures and papers.

Ino silently took in the mission board, absently chewing on her lip, eyes darting back and forth over numerous scrolls before settling on a blown up picture of Rika.

Naruto held back a smirk. He knew sometimes Ino couldn't wrap her mind around a Naruto competent in a field she'd trained her whole life to excel in. He liked to think they were rivals in a sense, both nontraditional prodigies in areas of shinobi expertise no one ever wanted to get their hands dirty with.

Ino's eyes narrowed and Naruto allowed his smirk to break through. She was very clever, quick enough to make use of it, and ruthless enough to not let it consume her. But in some senses, she was still a loud obnoxious twelve-year-old obsessed with the fairy tale ending.

"A lesbian?!"

Naruto laughed and held his hands up apologetically. "You're the best choice for this mission. You'll have to turn into a redhead—she likes them—but if we do everything right, we can run that summit."

Hide stood up with an exaggerated yawn and gathered up his mission materials, his face carefully blank. "I'm going to turn in. It's been a long day." He casually sauntered towards the stairs, pausing to call over his shoulder, "Don't forget the carpet Ino." By the time the kunai thudded into the wall behind him, Hide was safely upstairs in his room.

"So—"

"Don't even say anything Naruto!"

Ino stalked upstairs to her bedroom to stew in the comfort of her king bed. She had no problems with the mission, but it was already trying to even think of all the snide jokes and comments Hide and Naruto would make at her expense. The situation would be quickly rectified though. A womanly beat down always put them in their place, preferably before breakfast so they could all start the day off right.

Naruto stared at the stairs for a few minutes. He could hear Ino stomping around above him. Hide was probably asleep already. Ino would follow soon enough. Hide hadn't been entirely sarcastic when he said it had been a long day. Soaking in the hot tub had been nice, but it had been a long month.

The Kyuubi's chakra was a great supplement to his own stamina, but everyone needed to sleep to recharge. Soldier pills could only go so far. Ino had to have passed out by now also. The soak hadn't done much for her besides soothing some of the temporary aches and pains.

Naruto approached the wall containing the central node of the system of seals monitoring the penthouse. He closed his eyes, laid a hand on the large central symbol, and flared his chakra. Lines of characters pulsed outwards, glowing with increasing intensity as he pumped more energy into the node.

They snaked over the floor, scaling the walls, twirling violently upstairs. Naruto stood like this for a few minutes, molding chakra directly into the node, directing more tendrils upstairs before they all came back in a swirling rush, their information obtained and the impulse read.

Naruto opened his eyes. Hide and Ino _were _asleep. He had assumed correctly, but in such an imprecise line of work, it was always comforting to be able to deal in absolutes from time to time.

Naruto fished a pack of cigarettes and lighter out of his pocket before stepping out onto the balcony. He leaned against the railing, fumbling with the plastic wrap protecting them. The cigarettes had made the trek without becoming wet. He wished TOWHEAD could have said the same. Naruto teased a cigarette out of the pack, lighting it with a quick snap of his fingers before turning around to face a ninja slowly bleeding out of the shadows.

Naruto greeted him with a curt nod and tossed him the cigarettes. The ninja tugged off his mask, a deer, lighting a cigarette with the same efficient finger-snap, joining him against the railing to look out over the city below.

Naruto began without preamble. "How hard did you have to push for us to get the Hakodate assignment?"

"Too hard. We were barely able to get you scrubbed in Hokuto. It's getting a little tight down south for all of our incoming and outgoing birds. Getting Ishikawa Rika is going to be huge for us."

"Be careful."

"Speak for yourself. You never were the worrying type before."

Naruto read the implicit question. "Some things need to be worried about. Ero-sennin says that I'm just starting to get old."

The ninja looked at Naruto, a sardonic smile pulling at his lips. "You better keep worrying. We're far away from the denouement, but I do bring good news of a sort."

"Ero-sennin said his final draft of the new Icha-Icha would be done soon."

"Idiot, and yes he finished it. But for real; Danzou is dead. A heart attack just like you said would happen. It was written as a transmural myocardial infarction after the fact, blamed on old age and one too many combat missions way back when."

"And no one suspects anything?"

"You know they don't. Autopsy showed exactly what was expected, an old man done in by a heart attack. Even if they did think to look for poison, it would be for signs of exposure, not for withdrawal."

"And so Neji has ROOT."

"And so Neji has ROOT."

Naruto threw his butt over the railing and lit another. He pocketed the pack after his companion shook out a second. They stood in silence, puffing away, dark thoughts soothed by the combination of chilly air and warm smoke.

Naruto stared at the rain. It would give them definite advantages over the next week when the time came to deal with Rika's shinobi guards, but it would complicate Ino's assignment just as much. Coiffure and make-up never got along well with water. Neither would high-heels and couture.

"Ino doesn't seem to be happy about this mission."

"Ino's always been like that; bitches about everything, but she'll get it done."

"Oh, I know. She's very talented, but still too loud sometimes. We're going to get an earful from her tomorrow about not being perverted. I think she needs to get away from Sakura more."

"Too troublesome, but try to control her a little. We'll meet again in Ikazuchi if I can manage it."

Naruto nodded. By the time he turned to wave goodbye, the ninja had already disappeared back into the darkness.

* * *

Sakura opened her eyes and looked at the chakra flickering across her fingers. She brought her palms together and slowly exhaled. Manifested chakra slowly receded, seeping under her fingernails, absorbed by her chakra coils. She always began her day with a set of simple chakra exercises. Tsunade had taught her those early, taking great pains to impress the importance of a well-balanced chakra system to a ninja, especially for med-nins like themselves.

Sakura stood and bent over her exercise mat, pink to match her hair, stretching her palms toward the floor, slowly moving through a series of motions meant to loosen up her muscles. Sasuke had been long gone when she'd woken up, mattress cold, half the bed made—she still couldn't figure out how he did it while she was sleeping—an extra blanket draped over her, and a scroll slipped into her grasp; whose early abrupt message, in all forms, turned her stomach.

The calendar had a date one week later circled in red, the day Sasuke hoped to be back. They'd worked out the system early—Sakura; pink, Sasuke; red—unable to discuss anything more than generalities about their missions; A-rank and highly dangerous, a far cry from the meager D-rank offerings they'd first been assigned seven years ago.

She straightened, clasping her hands behind her, leaning forwards to stretch her back, working out the kinks that came with too much hospital paperwork in a most uncomfortable desk chair. Once she was done stretching, Sakura showered quickly and economically, a small thread of nervousness working its way through her neck.

Sakura forced herself to eat a hearty breakfast. The next few days were bound to be grueling. 'An examination of the darkest parts of your soul,' Kakashi-sensei had called it a week ago when she'd been cleared to take the fieldS certification exam. She thought he was referring to his own ANBU examinations, but since both tests were conducted under the strict authority of the Dark Forces, Sakura had been beset by a minor bout of apprehension.

Clad in a rarely used Jounin uniform, Sakura slipped out of the window and set off, flickering across the rooftops. The sun was finally out, shining over a bazaar bursting with energy, mocking her desire to take a lazy day meandering through its many stalls with Sasuke, both of them denied by events outside their control.

Sakura came to a stop in front of the only entrance to Yamajiro she knew, yet. The ANBU HQ was literally a rock fortress, burrowed deep into and under Hokage Mountain. Shizune waved, handing her a warm honey bun from her favorite bakery as Sakura fell into step along side her.

"For good luck. I still remember my fieldS. You don't need to worry too much about it. Don't make that face. You passed this level a long time ago. Just be precise and stay calm. Some of the examiners tend to be a little sadistic." Shizune nodded to the two ANBU guarding a door hewn into the rock before it swung open to a dark corridor, faintly lit by forever-burning torches.

Sakura declined to say anything, lost to her own thoughts, happy to let Shizune keep up a one-sided conversation. She knew Shizune was doing it for her sake, trying to ease some of the nervousness now radiating through her body. They came to a stop in front of another door.

Before they could enter, Kakashi slipped out, only identifiable by a dog mask accented in black—the mark of a captain—and a shock of wild steel hair. He only nodded to them both before taking Sakura's elbow and leading her into a caliginous maze.

He didn't say anything, only directing her around invisible corners and unseen doors before stopping at a gate covered in a faintly glowing seal. Even though she couldn't see much, Sakura knew he was looking at her, asking her to look underneath the underneath.

"I can't get through it, not yet. There are too many loops for me to deal with."

Kakashi didn't reply, touching a hand thrown into hazy relief against the gate. The seal rippled and melted away allowing them to pass. Sakura only had time to see it slowly beginning to reform itself over her shoulder before the darkness engulfed them again. She didn't know how long it had been before Kakashi came to a stop and pushed her through one final door, closing it behind her. Sakura's eyes, and ears, took a minute adjusting to a room illuminated by a panel of screaming fluorescent lights.

"Nagai-san, Yoshinuma-san." Sakura greeted the only two people in the room with a small bow before taking a seat on the only remaining fold-out chair. She knew they would be here. At this level, all the med-nin were well acquainted with their colleagues, personally and professionally. Any conversation that might have been, died as a woman—no mask!?—glided into the room, apparently not feeling any disorientation moving from dark to light.

Sakura was immediately alert. Unlike Tsunade who took great pains to look and act unlike that which she was, Hokage, this woman wore her power and experience like a latex catsuit. No one said a word, waiting to be addressed by the person obviously in charge.

"I am Sakuya. You know me."

And who didn't? ANBU Commander Sakuya-hime was as reclusive as expected of someone of her rank; but half-truths and legends held no such restrictions upon themselves, creating an image held in rarified reverence equal only to the Hokage and Gama Sennin Jiraiya.

"Don't look so surprised to see me. The fieldS exam and its certification are vital to Konoha's ability to field combat and intelligence missions at ANBU's highest levels. While you may not choose to pursue all the opportunities opened to you after completing this exam, there are literally no limits if you do so, I the best example.

"The exam will be administered by five examiners including myself. We'll be assisted by a number of ANBU candidates in both the Combat Division and the Intelligence Division. The exam will be conducted over the course of five days through a set of practical and field exams. Do not assume this will be in any way similar to the fieldB and fieldA certification exams. Those that do have a tendency to prematurely expire."

Sakuya left the room as smoothly as she had entered, leaving behind three stunned med-nin. Shizune's reassurances seemed a lifetime ago to Sakura. While she was confident in her own abilities, the shock at actually being addressed so cavalierly by a legend—who would be evaluating them herself—left her with growing apprehension. Her train of thought didn't even leave the station, stopped by the three cloaked and masked ANBU phasing into existence behind them, senbon fanning across their fingers. Sakura managed a reflexive punch before she lost consciousness.

* * *

There are distinct advantages to leading a platoon that doesn't exactly exist; such a broad range of missions it's capable of performing without the hassles of blacking out words upon words in hallways of scroll-boxes. Covert extraditions, assassinations, even dealing with the always useful and omnipresent criminal element; all manner of missions could be performed without involving bureaucratic rigmarole. Jack-of-all-trades-ness aside, ROOT also never had any of the inevitable personal problems that came with the Special Ops ego. Rather, there was a distinct lack of personality, which made it excessively simple to command for a relatively inexperienced Captain. One, who for the first time in his life had scored in the lowest percentile of an examination—Leadership and Gender Management; a Captain like Neji.

A Captain like Neji, who had no problems being the Unemotional Leader, no problems fulfilling a myriad of shinobi duties, but did have a distinct distaste for mephitic sewers and rivers of refuse, gloomy and gloopy and grating. This particular sewer was one of the worst he'd ever had to slog through. His squad fanned out behind him, a depressed diamond cut in half by a few hundred feet, slipping around corners, following dim chakra markers Neji left on the walls. At each streak, markers of pre-planned junction points, the trailing pair applied a combination of high-yield explosive tags and camouflage seals, taking painstaking care to ensure the chakra cord trunkline was properly routed and connected. Practically, any evidence left behind would point towards Konoha, and war; dramatically, simultaneous explosions always looked better from a vantage point; practically, simultaneous explosions were rarely caused by pressure overflows or resistance movements; dramatically, Neji had hints of obsessive-compulsiveness about spontaneous displays, of anything.

Not that the current operation was anything but planned. From initial viability to end-point logistics, ROOT _never_ overlooked any detail that could possibly come into play. Squad 1 and their mission had been buoyed; well, Neji and his mission planning had been buoyed by the torrential rains of the past weeks. A combined sewer system could only take so much. It was a much riskier proposition to fake sewer blockages and system overloads than it was to provide a few helpful nudges to an already overflowing subterranean labyrinth no one had the decency to maintain. With that in mind, executing the mission was all teriyaki sauce.

Neji knew what would happen as they closed out this operation. The rest of Squad 1 would sneak off into the forest to train for several hours a day. He'd wile nights away gathering valuable intelligence in the bars. The rest of Squad 1 would sit and stare at the walls of their hotel rooms for several hours a day. He'd play the epicure, taking the local pulse by frequenting various restaurants around the city. And on the third day after they emerged from the sewers, grimy and unseen—except by a slowly decomposing drunk—they'd watch civilians scream and separate into pieces along with the ground underneath them.

* * *

**Author's Note**: Just about a month to get this out, only two weeks over schedule. Not bad since I've never been a consistent writer. I had lots of trouble with Sakura (I can't help but feel her entire short portion is completely awkward), though TOWHEAD just flowed right out of me. I've got a rough outline of the next three chapters on paper, though it'll take me some time to flesh them out. The entire story is still coagulating in my head, but soon I'll have all the important details set. I think then I'll really be able to write with confidence and speed.

Again, please leave your thoughts and constructively critical reviews. I really do want to improve my grammar, flow, and prose.


	3. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer**: Naruto is the property of Kishimoto Masashi. Plot and certain details are of my own creation.

* * *

_Summary: While TOWHEAD operates undercover in Hakodate, targetting the young nubile Ishikawa Rika at ANBU's dark behest, an important political summit approaching. Sakura has been laid unconscious prior to the start of her FieldS certification exam, five days of hell on earth, and Sasuke, has just set out to receive a mission._

* * *

**Chapter 2**

**Wasteland's Edge**

* * *

Smoke and sizzle filled the air around Yakitori Tori, the best yakitori-ya in Konoha. The owner and his sons had been awake long before dawn began to creep over the horizon, making the most of what they hoped was an end to days of rain. Banners to unfurl, grills to scrape and scrub, and chicken, hundreds of chickens, to clean, slice, and baste.

Tori Ondori wiped his forehead, pushing back all the sweaty hair that always seemed to work its way out from under his bandana. He rushed back and forth, adroitly managing to keep a steady stream of skewers—tare so tantalizingly tangy—moving from the preparation area to open grill, rotating the cooking chicken to perfection, delicately balancing them on the precipice of an undercooked ascent and an overcooked nosedive.

Ondori looked up from the grill into a pair of impassive black eyes and panted out a greeting. "Uchiha-san." A few 500 ryo coins thudded into the till his son should have been tending, concentration turned by a group of chattering high school girls making eyes at him from across the road. Another coin hit his son in the back of his head, and Ondori stifled a laugh.

"A-Ah, sorry Uchiha-san." His son blushed and returned to the till, furtively trying to keep an eye on the road for passing beauties.

Yakitori Tori had long been frequented by Uchiha. Immediately adjacent to the Uchiha clan's substantial holdings, Ondori's father's grandfather had established cheery acquaintance with most of the MP's, his stall the gathering place of choice for the police getting off work. The tradition had continued for generations, interrupted only once, hopefully never again.

He had been surprised one day four years ago to see the spitting image of Uchiha Mikoto looking at him over the grill. Ondori had never questioned Sasuke about his sojourn in Oto, the details—a particularly nasty mind control jutsu—and what were said to be details—kinky snake tongue sex! Did the fujoshis know no decency!?—seemingly hashed over by _everyone _in Konoha. Usually, few words were exchanged between the two, Sasuke settling to watch him ply his trade over the charcoal. Once, Uzura, his son, had asked Sasuke what he found so interesting about turning yakitori.

"Your father has impressive eyes. He sees the meat completely," Sasuke had replied before returning to his silent observation. Uzura had been mystified, but Ondori had catalogued the complement with the few his father had deigned to grace him with when he was young and learning the intricacies of the family business. In any case, whenever his young lady was with him, she made more than enough conversation for the three of them.

Ondori's hands flew across the grill, protected by calluses and deadened nerves, picking up a dozen of the best cooked yakitori to be packaged. Sasuke accepted the bag and nodded, whispering to Uzura out of the side of his mouth, "Stare naturally or they'll think you're a pervert." Uzura, stopped, pondering the contradiction, before Ondori yelled at him and they both set to work again.

Sasuke espoused roof-hopping for the anonymity of Konoha's main thoroughfare. Eventually he left the crowded market, moving past all the boutiques and shops and restaurants for the Hokage's Tower, precisely on time for his A-rank briefing. He was never so late as to break out of his established pre-mission routine. The scarlet mission bird had been an expected surprise, part and parcel of the jounin rank, no longer the shining beacon it had so often been during his chuunin days.

Now Sasuke received a steady stream of the red birds and their challenging missions, instead of alternating between laughably easy find-and-retrieve assignments and protection commissions that invariably went wrong—never fatally of course, _he _was there after all. Most ninja were more than adept at blowing things up. Stopping other shinobi from dispensing wholesale destruction was an art form.

"Upstairs today Uchiha-san." Sasuke was positive the kunoichi staffing the mission desk today had just _chirped_ at him, along with her normal puerile blush-and-giggle routine. He never understood how she could be so happy, and stupid. If Sakura ever found out the girl made a point of trying to flirt with him, he'd end up going to med-nin bar nights the rest of his life. Of course if Suzu found out about it, the silly girl would probably end up dead, her corpse dumped in some hamburger machine.

Okuzaki Suzu had a _slight_ case of hero worship. Prodigy and chuunin extraordinaire she may have been, Sakura somehow had made an indelible mark on her during their introduction. While Suzu wasn't a med-nin, she possessed the same type of freakish power and ability as her idol, enough that Sasuke had no desire to make _either _angry. Suzu had taken it upon herself to protect _Sasuke's_ virtue, and so far, was doing an admirable job. And Sakura only encouraged her to work harder!

Suzu, unfortunately, was also working on her punctuality. Three-fourths of Team 13 were waiting on their errant rookie to show up. She'd get a strict tongue-lashing from one of them later, for all the good that it would do. Suzu thought she'd been put on a team with three other jounin because of her skills. Sasuke and his other teammates—Keiza and Sato, jounin of no small ability themselves—had spent the night after their first mission trying to find out just when and why her growth had plateaued. Naturally, Suzu had already found a way to annoy them without even being there.

Tsunade, accepting no explanation to why their shadow assignment might be too troublesome, or take too long, had drunkenly emphasized her point that night; idle fists cracked walls and splintered desks, demonstrating what she had in store for them if they weren't quickly able to polish Suzu up to jounin standard.

About fifteen minutes after Team 13 was ordered to report, Suzu rushed into Tsunade's hallway, her hair and attire a riot of colors and curves, a Narutoesque antithesis to stealth. She took her three yakitori—Sato and Keiza had gorged themselves immediately—and barged into the Hokage's office, showing great skill in eating and yelling simultaneously.

"Why can't we have an S-rank!?" Tsunade rolled her eyes at the ceiling and massaged the bridge of her nose. Sato and Keiza looked over Suzu's shoulder apologetically. Sasuke felt disgust trying to break free, but with some effort jailed it behind a contrite expression. Tsunade somehow always managed to blame the three for Suzu's idiocy more often than not. He didn't want to be accused of being ill-mannered either. Suzu settled for nothing, vehemently comparing the ninja that ran the mission room to all kinds of gutter rats, emphasizing the sexual favors the other jounin teams were _obviously_ doling out to their rodent benefactors in return for the choicer assignments.

Tsunade pounded a fist on her desk, toppling a mountain of papers and scrolls over the floor, mollifying Suzu, activating the trigger opening her secret sake drawer. No one messed with Tsunade when she drank, especially out of stress. That position was reserved solely for Jiraiya and Shizune. Tsunade slammed down an empty tokkuri, belching unashamedly, before pushing four thin folders across the desk.

"Normally, I wouldn't assign something like this to your team. All that power is wasted on escort missions, but I think the circumstances surrounding this mission dictate that it's you, and you only." said Tsunade. She flicked at a few switches under her desk. A projector screen rolled down on the wall to their left, an image slowly focusing as the projector warmed up. It showed a large map, with a very detailed route and itinerary. There had to be at least six different checkpoints, four in major cities no less. Sasuke wondered how exactly they were to guard someone if they wanted to be so overt in their movement.

"Now it's not exactly one person, but the interests of Mitaka-sama are not to be taken lightly. Of course the Daimyo will not be traveling with you personally, but several of his retinue and samurai will."

Suzu looked as apoplectic as Sasuke was stolid. She _shook_ with the effort of holding her tongue before storming off, mission folder in hand, frustration coiling within her, waiting for the first unsuspecting training post to cross her path. Keiza and Sato were much better emotional barometers for Team 13, and even they looked dismayed. No one liked dealing with aristocrats, especially when they were going to be escorting _clothes_—they'd snuck a peek inside the folder while Suzu was on the brink of a spectacular implosion. And since it was clothes, the Daimyo's underlings would wander about, not pay attention to where they were going, and turn this escort mission into a general farce. The brief's initial one week completion estimate was as optimistic as a bag of Peeps at their saccharine best.

Team 13 sans Suzu left the Hokage's office, mission brief thoroughly discussed and amended. On top of the royal foolishness Team 13 had already accounted for, if these rains were truly the end of winter, the quick sweep of springtime humidity would turn the convoy into a maelstrom of annoyance and wasted time. Rent and bills would almost certainly have to be paid in advance, the customary empty-jounin-fridge cleaned out further, equipment needs remedied to the point of overstocking.

As Sasuke came back to his apartment, there was no indication that it was occupied, Sakura long gone, her summons scroll delivered precisely at the four-hour warning. So when Sasuke slipped in through the kitchen window to see two cloaked ninja looking through his fridge, he let fly with a barrage of shuriken before his feet even touched the ground, the tomoe of his Sharingan entelechies, already pulling illusions into reality.

Before Sasuke could launch himself across the room for a fatal strike, kunai fanning across his fingers, he saw a dozen gossamer chakra strings slither through the air, corralling his shuriken to the dark maple floor with a clatter.

"Play nice now little Sasuke," a condescending voice called from the bedroom halting him, a particular lilt to the last syllable of his name, calling to memories long forgotten; a vague remembrance of seeing his brother and a woman and his parents and low bows and quiet, but proud, murmurings rumbling through the hallways of his ancestral home.

A woman, well past the heights of middle-age, smirked at Sasuke with his own particular brand of sardonicism, as if she had practiced the look for hours in a mirror every day—not that he would know. More unsettling than the familiar mordant curl of her lips was the manner in which her Hyuuga juin was so prominently displayed. Oh, it was normal in its application, the sickly green cross and hooks, precipitant to the precipitate of her being, all that remained an empty vase, waiting to be broken in a fit of pique; now, the yoke so obviously thrown off, her shame her power, darkly celebrated and embraced, a miasma of bad intentions boiling on her skin. Sasuke gave no voice to his thoughts—renegades and vigilantes—one hand beginning its slow ritual caress of Kusanagi's hilt, lightning chakra crackling to life between his fingers.

"There's no need for that. We're just doing a little routine information gathering. You know, personal habits, diet, that kind of stuff." She crossed the room, scanning a notepad on the kitchen island. "I think that's it for this room, finish up in the bedroom." The other two ninja obeyed immediately, the kunai reflexively drawn out upon Sasuke's attack hidden once more, taking with them the notepad and a camera.

"What are you doing here?" She ignored him, drifting to the living room side of the kitchen—both Sasuke and Sakura were happy with their cozy apartment—looking at picture frames, lingering over a nostalgic group shot of Team 7.

"How's Sakura doing? Been eating well recently, getting enough rest? She's been picking up extra rotations at Konoha General from time to time. We have some questions about her fitness."

"We?"

"We as in us." She smirked at him again, browsing through Sakura's CD racks, tut-tutting over some artists, smiling at others, which ones Sasuke had no idea. Sakura had a maddeningly contradictory love of androgynous boy-idols and obscure art rock bands. Sasuke wondered when she even found the time between work and training and everything else to listen to music.

He gave up on his lines of inquiry. The ninja were harmless enough, and if it came down to forceful expulsion, Sasuke was confident he would be up to the task. He'd get answers soon enough, either when that maddening woman decided to open her mouth constructively, or after a small detour back to the Hokage's tower; so he waited.

The minutes dripped by, punctuated by the closing and opening of doors and drawers, the click of the camera shutter in the bedroom, the woman sometimes smirking at him, other times marble, but always flicking her keen eyes this way and that way, alternating between smooth flesh and distended veins pulsing with chakra, pulling Sasuke back in time to a white room and a one-way mirror and Byakugan, focused on him, always.

He remembered dreaming, he remembered pain, he remembered shame. Most of all, he remembered Hyuuga the all-seeing, taking pleasure in jerking him into position after position, shoving eyes of milk-white so close their eye-lashes flickered against him, mocking the Sharingan that could not surface, arrogant smiles oh _so _demeaning as they read the chaotic roil of his chakra coils, Sakura to the side, ashamed at being privy to such unsettling intimacy day after day.

Sakura had explained before the first session, unable to keep her hands from shaking as she administered the enema, "It's chakra-contrast media. It'll help them see the behavior of the chakratransmitters around your eyes and the juin and fuin. W-w-we, we need to know if Orochimaru can still control you." He hadn't spoken for a month after that, enema aside, 'if he can still control you,' always in his mind, disgraced by everything, held together by nothing but a daily visitation and eternities spent not looking at each other, Sakura deep in a medical journal, Sasuke looking for patterns in the ceiling.

Finally, after an interminable wait, the woman spoke.

"Sakura is about to take the FieldS exam. As a rule, I like to do a little background work the day of, current mindset and all that. Her ANBU dossier has an extensive profile, but it's nice to get your hands into the guts so to speak."

"So you're just an intelligence analyst?"

She quirked an eyebrow at him, and smiled a small private smile. "That's one part of my job description. This examination works on a much smaller scale, so we examiners need to know our examinees inside and out. And a little bit's me. I _just_ do things this way."

Sasuke's reply was preempted by her subordinates. The three exchanged nods, puffing away in a familiar transport jutsu, but not before the woman smirked at him _again_—maybe Sakura was right to get annoyed with him when they went out sometimes—and wished him luck with his upcoming 'royal annoyances.' He knew then she was someone of power, real power, not just an arsenal of blistering assassination jutsu that would turn you into a spray of blood and bone fragments—like himself—but someone who knew where all the strings were, and had probably done well for herself jerking them around.

Sasuke was lost in revolving rumination—Sakura and Hyuuga and the not-so-secret-A-rank-mission— thoughts occasionally spinning out of control, forcibly diffusing through the pia mater, ghosting through the arachnoid, completely ignoring the dia mater, to reverberate off his skull, ping-ponging around before the currents of his brain pulled them back in line. He put on a look of disaffectation, taking his time on the way to East Gate, punctual to the tick of the second-hand, impossibly forcing himself to look even more emotionally stunted as the members of the caravan bustled around him.

Kato was handling the introductions; Suzu too visibly vexed, Sato too unsettlingly epicene, Sasuke too disturbingly dismissive. The leader of the caravan, a samurai, wobbly jowls an indication of how little he did in the Daimyo's court besides chase courtesans and drink his Lord's sake, blustered on and on about the fine journey—a goddamn death-march—they would undergo for the glory of The Fire. Sasuke nodded through his speech, discretely taking measure of their traveling party: a half-score of samurai, several carts and wagons—food, clothing, and completely unnecessary items—the aristocrats, courtiers and attendants, and the Royal Concubines; all flittering about, too many to realistically keep track of with only a team of four. He grimaced, instinctively feeling a few point at his back. Though he couldn't see their fingers, he knew it as surely he knew the intricacies of the Sharingan; The Last and Final Uchiha, the Daimyo surely spraying the spittle of political influence all over Tsunade's face, a firm reminder when they arrived in Ikazuchi of the assets Konoha, no, _he_, could bring to bear, not even counting what was surely to be the personal escort of an ANBU platoon.

Sato and Suzu had disappeared into the trees, Suzu not trusted to play nice, Sato to keep her in line, leaving Kato and Sasuke as the final line of defence. Sasuke sighed, and mounted the horse provided for him. They'd all either be mounted or in the carts, even the samurai. It was much better than walking, but just another hassle when there were jutsu screaming overhead and the horses spooked, dumping their riders, carts chasing the terror of a horse's addled mind; an easy distraction for attacking ninja to create and maintain and take advantage of.

Sasuke just sat, monosyllabic, effectively dismissing the halting approaches of blushing women, at odds with the effortless finery they let slither around their bodies. And then, with a creak of the gates and a flourish of horns, they set off, half the royal retinue, most of the Daimyo's effects, a travel route more suited for haphazard sightseeing than a diplomatic journey, and the four ninja unlucky enough to be to be joining this crocked tour of idiocy.

* * *

Sakura awoke with a fit, blinking her eyes in the darkness, their aperture dilating, light the only object of interest, but nowhere to be found. The faint echoes of drips and drops surrounded her, the dank smell of water and gloom and wet earth wafting across her nose, the cave whispering to her senses. She flipped to her feet quickly, taking a defensive stance, figuratively and literally completely in the dark, muscles tight, chakra beginning to pool in her fists, only relaxing, slightly, when no attack came.

Sakura formed a handful of seals and brought her open palms together, carefully molded chakra, slowly compressing itself around her eyes, ears, and nose; an S-rank sensory enhancement jutsu, highly dangerous and highly useful. Sakura turned slowly, sniffing, blinking; straining her ears before pinpointing the cave mouth, the only source of fresh air and light, but also ominous rumblings.

Sakura maintained the jutsu till the exit, releasing it with a sigh before taking stock of her surroundings. The cave entrance was an abrupt ledge, about half-way up an imposing scarp, surrounded by a harrowing descent, or climb, the rock face covered with mist and Konoha's indigenous flora, a waterfall thundering to her left. Below, a diorama of trees and water contained by a mountain range; a seemingly idyllic river valley.

She looked down once more; immediately, cerise nipples and vanilla curves; lower, a bikini line _begging _for a beach vacation; everywhere, a rosy blush protesting chilly air and her ill treatment. Sakura, angry but rational, clenched her jaw and kneeled, rubbing a handful of earth into her palms together till she was confident in their grip.

Sakura flexed her fingers and slowly, oh so slowly, began her descent, valley floor the only guaranteed promise of shelter and supplies. The dirt on her palms quickly became mud, dripping off her hands into her hair and onto her face as she scanned above and below, agonizingly circumspect in her choice of handholds and footholds, deliberately moving between rampant green downwards and away from the water. Three times, Sakura lost her footing, an immense amount of force straining her fingers, feet scrabbling for purchase, a small prayer grinding between her teeth, crevices and jags of rock and burning arms her only hope. Once Sakura paused, the waterfall's spray far behind, talus finally coming into view below her, still only pebbles in her eyes, searing muscles pleading for the eventual respite laying past the rock formation; Inner Sakura was ferociously fighting the constant battle against the prospect of rest threatening to consume her and break focus' tenuous stranglehold.

The talus was enormous, boulders the size of oxen falling over each other, but after the grueling descent, Sakura was almost childlike, flying down to the forest with a hop-skip-jump off the rocks all the way down to the forest floor, rebounding straight into the darkness of the understory. There she rested, a half-hour spent pulsing chakra through her body to hasten muscle recovery, the total chakra conserved well worth passing up a chakra-aided descent.

Again, Sakura performed Sameru no Jutsu, heightening her senses, quickly scanning her surroundings, only releasing the justu and heading north towards the waterfall when she was certain she was alone. Sakura tempered her pace as the waterfall grew louder, the water sure to be a gathering place for all kinds of creatures, the large predators of Konoha's forests only a nuisance, other shinobi foremost in her mind. Sakura knew during the course of the exam, she'd eventually be forced to fight, ANBU never failing to be thorough in any of their work, or tests. The plunge pool and the adjacent cliffs lacked immediate cover for her to escape in, but still preferable to the river downstream where the surrounding trees would allow attackers to come at her from any direction.

Sakura's throat and chest were asthmatic when she finally broke through the tree line to the plunge pool, a mistake spread out as far as she could see. Quickly, Sakura jumped up to the highest reaches of the canopy, taking in the underpinnings of her miscalculation. The cliffs were indeed immense, more so than she had originally thought, the gruesome specter of jagged teeth ripping through the flesh of the sky covered at the penultimate glory by gamboling clouds. And as the cliffs were high, so did the water fall, from the long view a powerful cascade breaking across multiple rock formations, mist drifting up and out and down, nature's Kirigakure no Jutsu. Sakura hadn't been mindful of how exactly far she'd distanced her from the waterfall in her descent, not taking into account how long it had taken to move past the dangerous wet rocks, rightfully focused on the intricacies of the cliff face immediately around her.

Either way, water supply was paramount, so Sakura took her chances in the blanket of mist, waiting and waiting, eyes straining through the haze, waiting for her target. When the deer appeared, she made sure to kill the doe and its fawn, both saved from the agony of seeing the death of family; herself two deer bladders to turn into water canteens, and the doe's femur, a more than serviceable club.

It wasn't much later, the blood finally scrubbed from her hands, that she found the need to clean her feet of the same. Sakura had moved quickly, dumping the deer's corpses in the pool, their scent finally scrubbed from her body. Sakura knew of a variety of fruiting trees and bushes, memorized ages ago in the Academy. She'd found a cluster of mulberry trees not far from the plunge pool, leaves and fruit far from fully formed, but easily coaxed into bloom and vigor with an elementary med-jutsu, the barely breathing body decidedly less so.

He had to be ANBU, Combat Division, candidate for full commission; no tattoo, but Sakura knew the moment she looked at him, body holding all the signs of a ninja who pushed too hard, and then pushed more and more through training regimens prolonged with addictive drug cocktails; training missions he tried not to cry about in the middle of the night; till he started to physically and mentally break down, dying like this, like a mutt, his mind still filled with glory, handlers who just couldn't be assed to care about a boy; just a boy who couldn't hack it, just a boy laying in a pool of blood.

All ninja heard rumors about what ANBU did to a person, but Sakura had never seen it till now. His face was pale and drawn from more than lack of blood, dark bruises all over from physical trauma and chakra forcibly molded till capillaries ruptured, body groaning and straining to keep going. All the physical exertion Sakura had undertaken came to naught, wrists and fingers burning from chakra scalpels and cells coaxed into dividing faster than was healthy, ice forming in her stomach as she depleted her chakra reserves at an alarming rate.

A lesser med-nin would have left him for dead, but she was the Hokage's apprentice, she was trained to work miracles. Sakura could have left him for dead. This was a test after all, healing a ninja in this condition like trying to lock the door against Death knocking outside, but she didn't, because Sakura knew she could spend herself dragging the boy's ass back to whoever would have wept over him. She knew she could drag him and herself out of this forest away from whatever those bastards at ANBU HQ had set after them.

Words broke foreign over her lips, Sakura managing a, "You're okay kid," before licking chapped lips and flexing a jaw that had been gnashed together far too long. Sakura was a talkative person by nature, and it looked like she'd be spending the next five days in a forest with only an almost-corpse and natural flora to converse with.

Sakura moved quickly after healing him, the boy hidden behind some bushes, the bottom of his pants fashioned into bags for mulberries and some roots, canteens filled and refilled after she all but forced water into him, and finally, a mud bath; her hair pulled out and twisted into rope to tie a mish-mash of leaves and branches at random over a walking mud cake.

Sakura had initially wanted to confine herself to an area she would have quickly memorized, setting traps and directing attacks along avenues of her choosing, but there was no such latitude anymore. She sat on a tree branch above the boy, only till the mud dried, setting off in the trees above the river, body over shoulder; not too slow for he would definitely not live out the next five days, but not too fast either. The forest held definite hostiles, obviously not going to hold back against one of their own and a med-nin, however important they might be. The last thing Sakura needed was an ambush.

The boy groaned, and Sakura groaned. Human sounds were a dead giveaway in the forest. Contrary to the normal conception that ninja's move silently everywhere, the key to traveling through a forest that has more animals than it has trees, was allowing your ear to hear the natural melody and then insinuate yourself into it, moving irregularly; stop here, skip there, crunch a branch, rustle a leaf; ninja couldn't throw a kunai at everything they heard. It's bad form.

She paused to tear off a strip of the boy's undershirt, sterilizing it with chakra, and tied it over his mouth. His breathing remained constant, a slow muffled rasp Sakura took great pains to disguise with a variety of natural sounds as she started to move again, the sun red and gold in the sky, darkness creeping from the forest floor to eat the last motes of light twirling in the canopy, an almost imperceptible distortion in the air trailing her, as it had been since she had first come to consciousness in the cave.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Well this took awhile. I had much more fun with Sakura, but it'll be awhile before she actually gets to say something. I don't think I like her very much, yet. I can grow to love her. Sasuke is interesting, but he will always be annoying to write, a little too aloof for me. A little experimentation with this chapter with the length of sentences it's effect on the story's pacing. Not that I should be worry about that kind of technique yet but I get ahead of myself sometimes. I think it reads well though, though there are a few suspect sentences above. When I figure out how to fix them, I just may well do that. Overall, Chapter 1 is still my strongest effort, I feel, but Chapter 2 does have its strong points.

Fire away and don't spare the whip. Hit hard. Cut deep. I've always had a little kink in me. (review + criticize)


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